A/N: The more I edit this, the more I realise how different this version is going to be. An example: some of the chapter names will change from the original versions because the rewrite just has some themes in certain chapters that were missing in the last version. I think I might change the rating too, although I'm not too sure. I mean, there are some pretty mature themes deep down in this when I peel back the layers...

Guccie Mane LaFlare - Thanks! Text talk is my worst enemy :')

Till next time,

D.L.D

Dread and Diaries

Gwen's P.O.V

After sprinting home to get out of the pouring rain, I set down the bags filled with snacks to find that Bridgette, Geoff, DJ and Duncan have all texted me back. From their replies I gather that everyone is coming and has some sort of suggestion as to what we should watch - in what order, I'm not entirely sure, but we can figure that out later on down the line. Right now, I need to get dry and prevent myself from catching a major cold.

Sighing, I turn off my phone and unpack all the goodies I manage to score on my shopping mission. My best score of it? A pack of some ready-mix brownies. Some annoying kid had tried to get the last pack - you can imagine what happened next. In all honesty, I'm surprised I that didn't get kicked out. I more or less tricked that kid into thinking blueberry muffins were brownies before dashing off and cutting into a queue.

But now I'm sopping wet and need to change before my weak ass immune system decides to surrender itself to the common cold. So, as calmly as I could, I dash up the stairs two at a time, ransack my room for some decent casual clothes and rush into the shower. I don't have much time before everyone arrives, and there is no way in hell I'm answering the door in a towel. No way.

So after a quick shower, I hurriedly change into my trusty joggers and a loose t-shirt, and book it into the kitchen. Just as I make it downstairs, the doorbell rings. Guest number one: on time as always. Silently groaning, I roll my eyes and shuffle toward the door. Why can't number one ever be late?

Lazily, I yank open the door, expecting to see DJ, but instead spotting Duncan. Yeah, Duncan. He's usually the last and the latest to arrive to any given event: birthdays, meetings, even his own birth. Duncan was born to be late; time is never on his side. Yet today he's on time and looking a little worse for wear, despite having a big, stupid grin plastered all over his face. Glistening with rain, his green hair clings to his skin and his teal eyes sparkle.

"What's up with you?" The words leave slowly, almost like a drunken slur, as I raise a brow at him. If I have to take a guess, I'd say that Duncan was stuck in the rain and had actually acted like an idiot and decided to get soaking wet. That sounds like a Duncan thing to do. But the redness to his eyes says something else. Even though he appears happy and goofy and stupid, something else is laying underneath it all. Hiding.

"I just broke up with Courtney," He has both hands stuffed into his pockets, his stupid smile still plastered on his face. He has a sorta glow about him. An odd one. It makes an unsettling feeling settle in the pit of my gut. "I got tired of it all."

"No wonder you look like that..." I breathe, leaving the door open and heading toward the kitchen. It's too late for this. I can't be asked to probe. "You two were a constant back and forth. Completely on and off."

Toxic - that's what I want to say, think to say, but I don't. I can't. How can I talk about toxic relationships when I couldn't even recognise my own one? I'm in no place to judge Duncan and Courtney, to label their relationship as something I don't even know. Sure, they argued all the time, but Duncan and Courtney did have their good moments, their lovebird moments. They just grew less frequent as we got older.

They just... drifted away a bit.

Even so, I'd never expected them to split. Sure, I could see them taking a break or going through that awkward period of agreed separation - now that appeared to be something Courtney-and-Duncan-like to do. But breaking up? I'd never seen that coming. Guess I was wrong.

To pass the time, I busy myself with making those ready-mix brownies. Duncan fills the background with conversation, the both of us laughing and joking while I mix the batter and scrape it into a baking tray. At one point he suggests lacing them with weed, and in return I smack his head with the spatula. Out of the both of us, he's definitely the bad influence. I'm definitely a lot more wiser and mature.

Soon, the brownies are popped into the oven and we're both just staring at the ceiling, wondering how long it will take for everyone else to arrive. Usually, DJ and Leshawna would be here by now: they always arrive on time. Duncan, Geoff and Bridgette would be the only ones straggling behind: Duncan because of his stupid time priorities and Bridgette and Geoff because of their inability to stay away from one another. But so far only Duncan has arrived.

"It's like today is backwards," I huff, blowing a few strands of hair from my eyes. A sly smile forms as I glance at Duncan. "Everyone's late and you're on time."

He chuckles at my remark, rolling his eyes, "I'm not that bad with time."

"Sure," I deadpan before also laughing. "Tardy."

Before Duncan can respond to my jab, the doorbell rings. As expected, it's everyone else who has been missing. They all stand on the front porch, brandishing bags of goodies and movie night gear, their expressions apologetic and yet also excited. The sight of it all makes me want to roll my eyes knowingly; I settle for a small grin instead.

"He- " The words barely leave as I open the door, Leshawna barging past me at the scent of brownies.

"I smell brownies! Did you make some?" Her voice carries like an echo as she rushes into my house, making her way directly toward the kitchen. We all hear Duncan curse something in response before Leshawna's victorious exclamation fills the air. "Yes! They're here!" Man, she loves brownies.

"Hey Gwen," Bridgette greets me in a more calm manner, wrapping me into a sea-scented hug. Like always, it is warm and tight and secure, but my face feels a little warmer than usual - a red flag. The next thing I know, Bridgette's arms constrict around my body, squeezing the air from my lungs, and I gag as I try to breathe.

"Um... babe," Geoff's eyes widen at my reddened face, his hand gently tapping Bridgette's shoulder. "I think you're kinda squashing Gwen."

"Oops!" Immediately, I'm let go and I suck in a deep gulp of fresh, relieving air. Bridgette has a remorseful look on her face, her beach-tanned skin colouring with a tint of red. "I forgot how tiny and thin you are..."

"Let's just get started with the movies," DJ suggests lightly, side-stepping his way around me. He wears a sheepish smile, his way of saying that things should get a move on. DJ is always time-conscious, we all think it's because he's raised by his Mama with her haggle of sons. However DJ argues it's just because he likes to keep on time, to stay loyal to the seconds on a clock. So none of us really debate it.

We all head inside, the lovebirds making a beeline for the living room to snag the best possible seats next to each other; Leshawna starts inspecting the brownies, pulling out some vanilla ice-cream she'd brought along with her; DJ busies himself, prepping some popcorn and whipping up god knows what wonderful culinary creations; and Duncan is being... well Duncan, for the first time in ages. He's having way too much fun taking the piss out of Bridgette and Geoff.

Once the brownies are done and DJ finishes arranging his many godly-created snacks, I decide to officially kick-start the school year's first official movie night. Sliding into the living room (yes, sliding. We have laminated flooring and I am wearing socks) I hold up the all-powerful TV remote and point it towards the teens all spread about the space.

Cracking a devious smirk, I raise a brow, "So who's starting first?"

"Me," Leshawna grins smugly, proudly brandishing her choice movie of the night: an action flick. Of course. It would be that or a comedy, always an action or comedy with Leshawna. Occasionally, it's crime or a tame horror. Very, very rarely she settles for a romance - but she often bashes on those. "I've brought a real good one this time."

So for the first two hours of the evening, we all end up watching Leshawna's alright action. It isn't too bad, centering around an ex-con pulling off one final big caper, but it certainly isn't the best thing I'd ever seen. In the end, I give it a solid eight out of ten - maybe eight point five.

Over the course of the movie, most of the brownies disappear and more popcorn has to be popped. As host, I designate myself to popping duty, and so I grab all the empty bowls and disappear into the kitchen. When I come back, everyone has selected the final order of movie-viewing.

"Alright, mine's next!" DJ hops from his seat, holding what looks a lot like a musical. I roll my eyes. Yippee. Looks like I'll be gagging for the rest of the hour, unless it's one of those dark musicals with some pretty good scenes - but knowing DJ it won't be one of those.

For the next hour and a bit, I end up speaking with Duncan and laughing at the dumb logic of the musical. After snorting and complaining about the oil-tanned 'Latinos' of the movie, Leshawna falls asleep halfway. So does DJ. Bridgette and Geoff end up getting wrapped into the plot and actually cry when the main character dies and his love interest is left to mourn his pointless death. By the time the musical has ended, I grow a huge smile and don't hesitate to choose the next movie: a classic slasher.

While Duncan and I appreciate the blood and guts and gore of a good eighties horror, Bridgette and Geoff appear to think otherwise. At some points, Geoff laughs with us, like when the guy has his hand put in a wood chipper and the girl is stupid enough to turn back. Bridgette, on the other hand, gets a little spooked and ends up falling asleep next to Geoff. Once she clocks out, Geoff naturally follows.

"And then there were two!" Duncan jokes, attempting to scare me. I laugh as I brush his arm away from me, rolling my eyes at his stupid horror-creep imitation. Clearly, it needs a little more work.

"Nice try, Dunk. But you'll have to try harder than that," I snicker, grabbing the half-finished plate of cupcakes DJ made. They're chocolate with some really good frosty, chocolate icing. I have to ask for the recipe some time.

"Yeah, yeah, that's what you say now, Pasty," Duncan chuckles, easily claiming the remote from the coffee table. Beneath his joking demeanour, though, there is something like concern. "You remember what I asked to watch?"

Weird question, but yeah. I would remember. He asked specifically for it as soon as I mentioned a movie night - it's one of his favourites actually. Sometimes we watch it, only sometimes, but the last time we did was like a couple of months ago.

"Blood Bath... four?" I frown a little, the pieces clicking together in my brain as I say the title. Oh yeah, that movie. "Right?"

"Right," He nods, growing his infamous smirk. He turns to me, a flash of something unnameable lighting his teal eyes. "You sure you can handle it, Gwennie?"

"Pfft, are you sure you can?" I retort, raising a brow. My arms automatically cross over my chest, my smug grin evident even in the gloom. "I mean I am older, so I'm pretty sure I can handle a horror movie. Question is, can you Dunky?"

Smiling, he lifts his hands in defeat, already selecting play for the movie. "Alright, just don't say I didn't warn ya."

"I won't," I answer, smiling.

For the beginning of the movie, everything passes smoothly. All the usual gore and blood flashes by me like the crappy drama I face in school. Death by chainsaw, yeah that's like a girl walking into a locker; getting impaled, try getting poked by Heather's nail file for three years straight; Oh no, you've seen the killer?! Have you met the school's cook? In short, all the usual horror shtick is easy to deal with. I'm used to it. But then comes my worst fear, my actual fear.

Being buried alive.

My eyes widen as one of the characters trips into the open grave prepared by the killer. Just as they're about to climb out, a boot stomps on their fingers, bloodying the tips. They fall. A shovel forces dirt on top of them, excruciating pound by pound, as they scream and try to claw out of the earth. My heartbeat echoes in my ears, my skin feeling way too warm and sweaty to be my own. I can feel the dirt entering my mouth, choking my lungs, and blocking my vision. It will get into my nails, it will bring bugs and rot and decay.

I used to like the idea of burying things, of funerals and planting stuff. That was all ruined when I felt like I was being buried alive, shovel by shovel, the undertaker being my very own father.

My stupor is broken by an arm winding itself across my shoulders, pulling me into a warm, solid form. "You ok, Pasty?"

I peer up through my lengthy bangs to catch Duncan glancing at me, ignoring the screams and chainsaw sounds coming from the TV. His attention is entirely caught on me, my fear, and I feel terrible for ruining his favourite movie because of my stupid fear. For being someone who ruins his enjoyment.

I shouldn't feel glad that he actually cares about me, that he knows me inside out and can recite my favourite things by heart. I shouldn't want to press against the space between us until it disappears. I shouldn't want to tell him how I feel, not with my lingering emotions towards Trent. I shouldn't want to be honest with him for once - like really honest.

I should distance myself.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I brush his arm away, returning to watching the movie. Thankfully, the burial is over. "I'm fine."

I don't know if I say 'I'm fine' twice for myself or for him. A part of me feels like I say it to keep myself together, to stop my brain from making me feel as if I'm splitting apart again. Duncan has never witnessed me falling apart - no-one really has. I keep that part of me locked up, secure. I keep it hidden from everyone including my closest friends. But around Duncan, around him and the feeling of never-ending safety he brings, I always catch myself slipping. I always find myself falling back into my old habits of giving everything I have to one person.

We watch the rest of the movie in silence. It ends with the cliche of the killer's death being an open question, obviously setting up for a sequel that ultimately never came. By then, the popcorn is well and truly finished and the cupcakes have morphed into empty wrappers. Light snoring and heavy breathing fills the room, the rest of the Gang all well and truly knocked out for the night - the movie night turned into a sleepover. Honestly, I should've seen it coming.

Checking my phone, I spot that it's around midnight and decide to use some crap excuse to escape to the sanctuary of my room. It's not because of Duncan, but rather myself. I can't trust myself to behave around him; I can't trust myself to be restrained around him.

"I'm gonna call it night," Yawning, I stretch and get up from the couch. I make a show of rubbing my eyes, pretending they're bleary. "Night Duncan."

"Night."

His answer is suspicious, I could tell from the confusion on his face, but I continue my tired act and shuffle out the living room. It's only once I've gone upstairs that I sprint toward my room and make sure to lock the door behind me. Once that's done, I flop onto my bed and bury my face into my pillows, finally breathing out.

Why can't I ever have a normal day?

Heather's P.O.V

It's just around six when I finally pull up to Courtney's house. Initially, I hadn't planned on staying for long - let alone visiting for a bit - but after a little time to think I convince myself that it would be good to spend some time with Courtney. To learn more about my enemy. After all, if I want to crush Courtney I need to gain all the dirt and info I can on her. Once I do that, taking her down and teaching her the valuable lesson of never backstabbing me again will be a piece of cake. A piece of low-carb, gluten-free cake. Yum.

Once I finish up here, I'll head straight to Lindsiot's (Lindsay's) house. Then I can finalize some minor details in my plan and begin to devise a way to widespread the newly gained info on Courtney through the school. After that, everything else will be simple. Effortless.

Unable to be hidden, a smile snakes its way onto my face as I ring Courtney's doorbell. The annoying trill of it rings in my ears, and I silently roll my eyes at it, before the front door swings open. In its place is Courtney, looking as preppy as ever, her mocha hair kept out of her eyes with two black hair clips. Immediately, she wraps me into an overly friendly hug and squeezes me like her life depends on it. Instinctively, I tense.

"Heather!" Cheery. Her voice is too cheery. I can tell from how it lacks it usual nasally tones and sounds like how it does when she tries to conceal her jealously towards someone. Her judginess. Just from Courtney's greeting, I can tell that she is faking it all. I can tell that she's putting up an act. Why? I don't know. What I do know, though, is that if I want to keep the upper hand, I need to act as if it doesn't stun me at all.

Guess that means I'll have to play along too.

"Courtney!" I separate from the hug with a wide grin plastered on my face, hurting my cheeks. I make sure to crinkle my eyes - the giveaway to a fake smile. "You ready to go over some strategy?"

Courtney only stares at me in response, her brown eyes cautious as her fake smile grows nervous instead of pretentious. Her eye twitches - a sign of her annoyance. I spot her hand shaking by her side - another tell. My response has caught her entirely off guard. Good. I want her to know that I can always flip the script. I want her to know that I am the main character of this story. Not her. I am the one who changes how everything goes.

"Um... yeah," Her voice comes out stunned, breathless, her senses clearly scattered. However, she quickly regains her former front, stepping aside to let me in properly. "Come on in, then." As soon as the door closes behind me, Courtney leaps straight into a long list of dialogue and blabbering while she leads me to the living room. Parts of it are about certain people she can't stand; other parts are about Duncan and how he's been jarring her as of late; and most of it is actually about Gwen and how much Courtney despises her growing acts of 'social defiance'.

Most of the talk I ignore and nod and hum where appropriate. However, about an hour in, I grow interested when she brings up Gwen and begin to delicately probe further into the subject. At first, Courtney is cautious and skeptical, only revealing small snippets, but as we weave the information into the plan, I uncover more and more about Gwen. I learn that Gwen has known Duncan since elementary; I learn that Gwen has an indulgence for weed; I learn that Gwen cannot maintain a stable relationship.

For the first time in years, I begin to grow a clear picture of the pasty Goth who's made my time as Queen Bee so difficult. I begin to piece it all together, and therefore place a plan together to carefully knock her down chunk by chunk.

But as time wears on, and Courtney clearly grows too obsessed with the topic of Gwen and her friends, I decide to leave and keep what I have found. Well, what I've found along with what I can uncover with a bit of snooping.

"I really need a bathroom break," I flash Courtney an apologetic smile, flipping my hair over my shoulder. I pull my bag over my shoulder. "Periods, y'know."

"Oh, of course," Courtney nods, still smiling. She looks a little too eager to see me leave. "It's the first door on the left upstairs."

Alright, time to snoop.

Imitating the weird waddle-walk I get when bloated, I walk out of the living room and head towards the staircase. Once I'm out of Courtney's eye and earshot, I then make my way upstairs and towards the prized location of this visit: her room. It isn't hard to find, like many teenage girl rooms, and has a tell-tell 'C' hanging from the door and painted purple. Across from it is the bathroom, my excuse, and I can't help but grin at my luck.

Carefully, I open the bedroom door and slip into the room. Immediately, I spot the shelves and desk and neatness of it all, the bed sheets even spread to look smooth and wrinkle-free. Burnt Sienna walls are complimented by white accents, and books rest on shelves decorated with certificates and pictures and awards. If anything, Courtney's room just tells me how much of an overachiever she is. A suck up. But it sadly that isn't enough to secure my place on the high school throne.

Pulling out my phone, I begin to search through her things for anything that could hint to an embarrassing secret. In my search, I find jewelry, trinkets and whole load of pens and notepads. Many of the notepads are unnecessary lists, things like 'get paper' written on them or 'study for tests'. However, I hit the jackpot when I check Courtney's first ever violin certificate, the frame being extra bulky as it hid a diary within it. Perfect.

Slipping the small book into my bag, I sneak back out of Courtney's room. I then head to the bathroom across the hall, flush the toilet, wash my hands and loudly walk down the stairs. When I finally reach the living room again, I find that Courtney has gone to the kitchen. She soon returns carrying a plate of blueberry muffins, one already stuck between her teeth.

"These cramps are really bad..." I frown, folding my arms over my stomach. I make sure to groan a little as I adjust my bag and stand up. "I think I'm gonna call it a night."

"Oh, ok," Courtney nodded, feigning disappointment. Really, her voice and expression are blank. She bit into her muffin. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Yeah, tomorrow," I nod, already waddling towards the front door. I let myself out, closing the door behind me.

She really is gullible. People are gullible. Everyone is wrapped around my little finger, even Courtney who thinks she isn't. Even Gwen who thinks that she can escape it. They just don't realise it. They just don't see it yet. But soon they will.

Pulling out my phone, I dial a number as I climb into my car. It's time to talk with Lindsay.

Lindsay's P.O.V

Today is peaceful. Like really peaceful. Not once has something crazy and chaotic and drama-filled happened, the time passing pretty slowly without much to do. With all the free time, I manage to re-order my nail polishes and lip gloss, clear out all the icky off-season makeup I own, and donate some tacky clothing to the charity box we own downstairs. That left most of the evening to be spent flicking through my huge collection of teen magazines.

Honestly, I think I was just beginning to flick through the latest issue of Teen Vogue when Helia decided to interrupt my reading. Via phone call of course. She never really comes in person unless it's super-duper important.

Putting down my magazine, I pause my music and pick up my phone. Oddly, I have Helia's number saved under 'Heather' and not 'Helia' - which is her name. Well, I think it's her name. That's what she always tells me it is anyway. So it's like super weird that it's saved under 'Heather'. But I answer anyway, because I know Helia often changes her number like crazy and probably saved it as 'Heather'. That seems like a Helia thing to do.

Over the call, Helia tells me that she's coming to my house. She barks something about Courtlyn and how she's got the perfect tool to secure her position as Queen Bee. While she says all this, I just stare at my reflection, wondering if I could pull off the shades of maroon lipstick that the magazine's talking about. After all, maroon is making a comeback - well, that's what I predict in the fashion charts. Usually, I'm not wrong about that.

"Just be ready," Helia eventually huffs, hanging up.

I only blink in response, shrugging at my reflection before throwing my phone onto my bed and going back to flicking through magazines. After another twenty minutes of magazine flicking, my doorbell rings and I know that it's Helia. I also know it's best not to keep her waiting.

Placing down my magazine once more, I head downstairs and work through the complicated knob-thingies that lock the door. As soon as I unbolt the final one, I spot Helia tapping her foot, her wedges making a weird tap-tap-tap sound on the porch.

"Finally," Once again she huffs, rolling her eyes. Her raven hair flips over her shoulder, cascading down her side like a pony's mane. "How difficult is it to open a door?"

"Pretty hard, actually," I answer smiling, opening the door a little more for her. I try to keep the family chihuahua away, knowing that Helia really dislikes it when she jumps at her. However, she really likes it when guests come over - especially Helia. Whenever Helia visits, I have to constantly keep the dog occupied or she immediately tries to go up to Helia - who really does not like any kind of animal other than cats.

"Whatever," Helia rolls her eyes again, her gaze narrowing as she spots the dog going wild behind me. "That's not why I came here. Plus, isn't that thing... rabid?"

"What?" My eyes grow wide as I pick the dog up, making sure to scratch her behind the ears. Instantly, she relaxes in my hold. "My dog's not rabid. She's super cute."

"Sure..." Heather grimaces, shivering as she spots the animal within my hold. Anxiously, she adjusts the strap of her bag, clearing her throat as she promptly marches towards my living room. "Anyway, we need to discuss my secret weapon. Or rather, what we can do with Courtney's diary."

"You took her diary! That's really mean, Helia!" I gasp, my eyes wide as my limbs freeze. The poor dog is probably dying from how tightly I must be squeezing her. But I can't even focus on that now, not when Helia's just told me about Courtlyn's diary! That's just cruel - evil! Taking someone's diary is like exposing all their deepest darkest secrets and fears to the whole world. No-one will ever see the poor girl the same, and Helia will only ruin her image with the power that diary gives her.

"Well no shit," Helia rolls her eyes again, shaking her head. I hear a low growl come from my arms - the dog. "That's the point, Linds. We need to embarrass Courtney if she's ever going to learn her lesson."

"What lesson?" I ask, not even thinking. Instead I focus on my racing heartbeat and the way my hand anxiously combs through the dog's fur. "What did she do?"

"Something bad," Helia's voice grows serious, grim, her gaze narrowing to a glare. Her hand whitens as she balls it into a fist. "Something really bad. So I have to make sure she won't do it again and I need your help to do it."

My help? Oh... that makes sense then. Helia only ever comes to me when she needs my help, or when she wants to hang out. However, the second option is really rare these days. A lot of the time Helia likes to be alone.

"Ok, this makes sense now," I nod, bending to allow the dog to scamper from my arms. She runs from the room, most likely hunting for Paula, and her claws click against the floor. "What exactly do you want me to do, though? I'm not really close to Courtlyn, plus she doesn't really like me."

"She doesn't like a lot of people," Helia says, crossing her arms. She shuffles closer to me on the couch, lowering her voice. "But that's why I need you to..." My eyes widen as I catch what Helia wants me to do, the very idea of it being way worse than stealing a diary. Way worse. If anything, this plan is going to ruin poor Courtlyn's social life for the rest of the school year. Perhaps even forever! And the true scale of being a part of it sinks into me, like a heavy weight, and I feel myself freezing as Heather smirks and pulls away.

"If you do that, I'll let you borrow any of my accessories, shop with me and gain even more say in the cheer squad," She looks at me, her eyes glinting with some intent I've never seen before. A look like the ones those villains in those cliche TV shows have. "All you have to do is say 'yes' and I'll make sure you're not involved anymore."

Her words ring in my ears, making me feel like one of those heroes in a movie, and I find myself considering Helia's offer. I mean, I don't really mind the shopping and accessories and power - although it would be nice - but I do care about being protected from things like this. It's hard going to school and having to worry about mean people like Helia. It's hard going to school and watching people like Courtlyn suffer.

But I know that if I want to be happy, I have to make sure that I am safe from the mean people. I have to make sure that I am on Helia's side.

I take a deep breathe, "Promise? Promise I won't be involved anymore?"

"Promise," Heather nods, her smirk growing at my words.

Later, when I shake her hand, I feel like I'm signing a deal with the devil. When she leaves and doesn't scold me for calling her 'Helia' instead of 'Heather', I feel like I'm talking with a stranger.

It's weird that she doesn't yell at me for getting her name wrong. She always yells at me because of that. But then again, Helia - no Heather - has always been weird.